


Two Stans, Two Fords, a Mabel, and a Monster Hunt

by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)



Series: Two Stans, Two Fords, and a Mabel [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Timestuck, timestuck au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiMelone/pseuds/The%20Last%20Speecher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In June of 1983, Mabel finally goes on her first monster hunt with Stan, Ford, and Fiddleford.  Any monster would have been dangerous (if fun), but it turns out that the Oregonian hydra is a bit more so than they expected.<br/>(Side story in Two Stans, Two Fords, and a Mabel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here There Be Monsters

**June 23, 1983**

“Come on, Ford, let me go on your monster hunt today!” Mabel begged. Stanford Pines, Ph.D. looked down at her through his glasses. Mabel put on her best cute face and widened her eyes as much as possible.

“Don’t bother trying the puppy dog look on me,” he said brusquely, continuing to pull supplies out of the drawer. “It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But I’ve already proved I can take care of myself! I told you about how I got help from Multi-Bear before.”

“Yes, well, he is much friendlier than the hydra.”

“Hydra?” Stan asked, walking into the room. “Like the thing that Hercules killed?”

“How do you know that?”

“I always liked stories about dragons getting punched in the face,” Stan said, stopping next to Mabel and resting one of his arms on top of her head. She’d sprouted like a weed in the last few months. Stan kept joking that if she didn’t stop, she’d be taller than him by Thanksgiving.

“The hydra is more than a mere ‘dragon’, Stanley,” Ford said. Mabel turned to face Stan, his arm still on her head.

"Stan, Ford won’t let me go on the monster hunt. But I want to go!”

“Sweetie, I’m pretty sure that a responsible guardian wouldn’t want you going after an over-sized lizard that sprouts new heads.”

“Oh, like you’re suddenly a ‘responsible guardian’?”

“That’s an excellent point. Ford, I insist that you take Mabel along with you,” Stan said, crossing his arms, showing that he meant business. 

“Really?” Mabel asked excitedly, jumping up and down.

“But,” he continued, “only if I come along, too. You’re a bit of a wimp, Sixer, and your assistant is even worse. He’s 90% toothpick.”

“You’re just trying to fulfill your childhood dream of being like Loinclothicles,” Ford said, rolling his eyes. Mabel shuddered.

“Clay-mation,” she muttered, momentarily reliving her traumatic experience with dark magic clay dolls. 

“Maybe, but you have to admit, I’m more brawns than either of you brains,” Stan said. He looked over at Mabel. “And I want her to explore and learn from smart guys like you and Fidds. Without getting hurt.” Ford a noise of impatience somewhere between a huff and a tsk. 

“Fine, you and Mabel can come along. But you’ll need to be debriefed before you go.”

“Debriefed? What is this, a Navy SEAL operation?” Ford glared at his brother. “Okay, geez, sorry. You try to make _one_ joke and he gets upset.”

 

“Now, this is what the tracks of the Oregonian hydra, or _Hydraconius ouragonii_ , look like. You may notice that they are similar to those of a salamander, just much larger.” Mabel raised her hand. “Yes, Mabel?”

“Are we supposed to be taking notes?” she asked. Stanford was giving a presentation on all the data he and Fiddleford had collected so far. Unfortunately, his slide show was not nearly as exciting as his journal.

“No, I just want you to have some basic understanding,” he said reassuringly. 

“Okay.”

“Judging by its lair, we have come to the conclusion that it is a carnivore.” Stan groaned loudly. “Yes, Stan?”

“I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to make dragons boring. But congratulations, Sixer, you did it.” Ford sighed.

“Stanley, this is important information!”

“For that book of yours you’re always scribbling in, sure. Do we need to know it, though? Can’t you just tell us ‘carry iron, wear green, keep a bunch of salt in your pockets’ or whatever?”

“That’s for fairies, Stan.”

“Which is why you should tell us that sort of information we need to be safe around this dragon!” Ford frowned, thinking.

“We actually don’t know what might or might not set it off. Things that might help, hmm, being quiet, not wearing cologne or body spray, avoiding bright colors, your basic forest survival tips.” 

“Sounds good!” Stan stood up. “Let’s go find ourselves a dragon! I’ll go get your assistant from the secret basement.” He bolted out of the room, clearly glad to be done with the lecture.

“Any questions, Mabel?” Ford asked, turning off the projector.

“Yeah, what does it look like?”

“We’re not actually sure.” He began to put away his slides. “It appears to have an ability to replicate to some degree, hence naming it after the Lernaean hydra, and some local tales have led us to believe it has orange or yellow eyes. The reason we are going after it today is to find out just what it looks like.”

“How will you know that you found it, then?”

“We managed to estimate its weight and size by the footprints we’ve found, so if it’s in that range and has sharp teeth, that’s almost definitely it.”

“Science is weird.” He chuckled.

“Yes, it is. Now, how about you go put on a less flashy sweater,” he said, glancing at the neon yellow she was currently wearing, “grab your grappling hook, and wait outside for us old people to get ready, okay?” 

“I think we have different definitions of ‘flashy’, but whatever you say.” 

 

“This is May-May to The Godfather, come in, Godfather, over.”

“I read you, May-May, over.”

“10-4. Over.”

“Are you having fun with those walkie-talkies?” Fiddleford asked mildly. The forest was still fairly bright at about 1 pm, so they didn’t need the flashlights they had brought along. But that didn’t stop Mabel and Stan from using the other tools in the backpacks being carried by Fiddleford and Stanley.

“They’re super cool!” Mabel said excitedly. 

“Shh!” Ford hissed. “We’re on a monster hunt, so that means we should keep our voices quiet.”

“Maybe only use the walkie-talkies when we need to?” Fiddleford suggested. Mabel nodded.

“Okay.” They walked in silence for a few moments. Mabel stared at everything, not bothering to hide how excited she was. The forest didn’t change in thirty years. She could practically hear Dipper shouting her name, maybe because he got lost, or she got lost. Something along those lines. Wait, she _could_ hear him.

“Mabel! Mabel, where are you? I miss you!”

“Dipper!” she shouted and ran in the direction of her brother’s voice. “I’m right here! I’m right- _oof_!” Ford had grabbed the back of her sweater as she ran past.

“Sweetheart, that’s not a human,” he whispered urgently. 

“What are you talking about? I can hear him! It’s my brother, I need to go after him!” she shouted, struggling to get loose. Dipper was just off the path. She needed to get to him!

“Hun, your brother’s not here,” Fiddleford said gently. “I’m not sure what you’re hearing, but it isn’t him.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Where do you hear this person coming from?” Stan asked. Mabel pointed. Stan strode off the path in the direction she had indicated. Dipper’s voice abruptly stopped, replaced by the distinctive sound of someone being thoroughly beaten in a fight. Stan emerged from the understory, holding a small, scrunched up man. It looked sort of like how she imagined an unattractive elf might if it had gone through the dryer and shrunk.

“An erlking!” Ford said, letting Mabel go. “I suspected it might be one of those, given that only Mabel could hear it.” He looked at her. “Erlkings use their ability to mimic voices for trapping children. Adults can’t hear them.” 

“What do you want me to do with it?” Stan asked. “It smells like dirty socks and day-old eggs in the garbage disposal.”

“Ah, um,” Ford muttered, looking at Fiddleford, who shrugged. “Just, throw him back, I guess. We didn’t come here to study erlkings.” Stan grinned.

“Works for me.” He threw the stunted creature as far as he could. Mabel could hear a faint “ow” as it crashed into a bush. He made his way back to the path. “Sweetie, do you still feel up to hunting for dragons today?”

“Y-yeah! The, um, king-thing just threw me for a loop,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “Sorry. I don’t know why I got so _weird_ about it.”

“An erlking is designed to lure children,” Ford said, waving away her worries. “You did perfectly fine on your own. And you’re wearing green, so he would have let you go. Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Anyways, we’d better get back to trackin’ down dragons,” Fiddleford said abruptly, intervening before the conversation went places he didn’t think it should in front of a thirteen year-old. “Lead the way, Stanford.” Stan picked up Mabel and put her on his shoulders.

“You deserve a special ride,” he said casually. “Those little legs of yours get tired quick.”

“Not so little anymore!” she said brightly, covering how shaken up she still was at hearing her brother’s voice.

“Soon you’ll have to graduate to arm thrones instead of piggy-back,” Fiddleford said, smiling at her. 

“But I like riding piggy-back!”

“I don’t care if I throw out my back like some old-timer, you’ll never be too big for a piggy-back ride from Stan,” Stan said cheerfully. Mabel giggled.

 

“ _Another gnome_? Where do they all come from?” Stan asked, holding the tiny man up. It tried to nip at his fingers.

“Maybe this one will let me see what’s under its hat,” Ford muttered, reaching for the magical creature. It bared its teeth and growled.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen, Sixer,” Stan said, dropping the gnome. It scurried off into the undergrowth. “I also don’t think we’re going to find this dragon of yours.”

“Maybe it took a vacation,” Mabel suggested from where she was sitting on the ground, making daisy chains with Fiddleford. “I hear Disney World is a lot of fun.”

“We’re not taking you to see fake dragons when we’ve got real ones right here,” Fiddleford said.

“Do we _have_ real dragons here though?” Stan muttered. 

“Of course we do!” Ford said indignantly.

“I’m just saying, Stanford, we’ve been looking all day and haven’t even found tracks. We ate all the food Fiddleford packed, and if we don’t get going, we’ll be out here past Mabel’s bedtime.”

“I don’t mind!”

“You stay out of this, missy.” 

“Oh, boo.”

“Fine, Stanley, you can take Mabel and head back. Fiddleford and I will continue to search for the hydra. It might be nocturnal, after all. Maybe even crepuscular.”

“What language are you speaking?” Ford’s response was stopped by a sort of shuffling noise. Fiddleford grabbed Mabel quickly, holding her close. He recognized the sound of reptiles approaching.

“Where’s it comin’ from?” he whispered. Ford looked around. 

“Uh…” Stan looked over at Mabel, who had taken out her grappling hook, a determined look on her face. 

“I’m going to take Mabel and make a break for it,” he whispered to Ford. “Before it gets too close." Ford nodded. Stan walked quickly over to where Mabel was still on the ground and picked her up in a fireman’s carry. The dim dusk was suddenly brightened by an orange glow. Multiple sources of orange glow. From eyes. All around them. 

Stanley S. Pines knew the perfect word for this situation.

“Shit.”


	2. This is What Boxing is For

Stan put Mabel down gently.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said softly, trying to avoid eye contact with the hydra. It was difficult, though, given that they were surrounded by eyes. “Fiddleford, stand up slowly. Stanford, get over here, and both of you shield Mabel.”

“What’re you goin’ to do?” Fiddleford whispered, doing as he was told.

“I’m going to try to take this thing out before it attacks.” All the eyes instantly disappeared. The four of them blinked in the sudden darkness. Stan looked over at his brother, who was now standing next to him, keeping Mabel behind his back. “The hydra doesn’t speak English, does it?”

“It’s a lizard, Stanley. I don’t think it can speak _any_ human language.” Stan nodded, feeling a bit reassured. “However, _understanding_ a language is much different,” he continued. Stan suddenly went down, covered by an enormous reptilian mass. 

“Stanford, why the hell did you need to phrase it like that?” he roared. He wasn’t sure why it had an odd number of eyes, but it was stronger than he’d expected.

“Sorry, Stan.”

“I don’t want your apologies, I want Mabel out of here before she gets hurt!” he said as he gave the monster a left hook with enough strength that it slid off of him. It stumbled back to its feet, which Ford noted did look a lot like a salamander’s, and shook its head. 

“It’s more intelligent than we expected, Fidds,” Ford whispered to his assistant. The hydra whipped its head around and stared at the two scientists. “Uh, hi?” The monster’s outline began to waver. Its form wobbled. 

“What is it doing?” Mabel asked, peering out from behind Ford.

“Replicating,” Ford responded in a tone of wonder. He looked at Fiddleford. “We’ll need to write in the journal that, unlike the Lernaean hydra, this one doesn’t replicate its head, it replicates its entire body.”

“Couldn’t you save this conversation for when we are safe and sound in the house?” Stan demanded, still lying on the ground. He jumped up and looked over at the hydra. Rather, hydras. “Great, now there’s two of them.” One of the monsters hissed furiously at him, revealing very large, very sharp teeth. 

“There appear to be three rows of teeth,” Ford muttered, intently watching the hydra circling Stan. “The tails are tipped akin to a rattlesnake’s, which could have been the source of the sound we heard as they approached.” 

“Really? You’re still doing this, Sixer?” Stan asked. As if on cue, the hydra prowling near him launched at that moment, as well as the second one, which had been lurking just out of sight, waiting. 

“Watcha!” Mabel shouted as she fired her grappling hook at the monster leaping toward Fiddleford. It fell to the ground and, like the original one, began to waver.

“Thank you, Mabel,” Fiddleford said, adjusting his glasses with a shaking hand. In the midst of his graceless fall, the backpack he had been carrying broke open, spilling the contents over the ground. “It appears to require a few moments to replicate, so that should buy me enough time to grab a weapon of sorts,” he mumbled to himself, looking at what his backpack had held. “Why did this bag have only Tupperware, rope, and six flashlights?” 

“Yeah, no, it’s totally fine with me, you keep on ignoring the fact that I’m fighting for my life over here!” Stan shouted. With each punch he landed, the hydra had multiplied, until he was completely surrounded by eight dragons. “I wish we were going after the real deal,” he yelled, dodging a swipe from some nasty claws, “at least it would only multiply its heads, so you could take it out with a nice stab to the chest!” He accentuated the word “stab” with a jab at the monster trying to sneak up behind him. “Mabel, sweetie, you fine?”

“Yeah!”

“Good! Stay that way!” Fiddleford scrambled to his feet just as the hydra Mabel had hit with her grappling hook finished splitting in half. He tilted his head.

“Stanford, did you notice that each replicate appears to have progressively fewer eyes?” 

“That’s fascinating. Perhaps there’s a limit as to how many replicates it can have, and this limit is determined by how many eyes the original had.”

“Yeah, that is fascinating! Except, even if we reach the limit, then we end up with over twenty dragons that all want to eat us!” 

“Stanley, you aren’t helping by being so cynical.”

“Fidds, look out!” Mabel shouted, hitting another hydra away from him with her grappling hook. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. Why are they going after me?” 

“Maybe they like skinny assistants to dumb geniuses,” Stan said sarcastically, punching anything he could get his fists on. Ford kicked away a one-eyed hydra that attempted to leap at Mabel. 

“Leave her alone!” It got back up, but did not replicate. “It’s exactly as I thought! When it has one eye, it can’t replicate anymore!”

“That helps us how?”

“If we knew its weakness…”

“Didn’t Hercules use a torch to kill it?” Mabel asked, aiming at the hydra that had just jumped at her. It hissed menacingly. She hissed back.

“Actually, Heracles, to use the proper Greek name, tasked his nephew Iolaus with using the torch to burn off the stumps left when each head was severed,” Ford said, staring down a hydra that had broken off from the group still attacking Stanley.

“Stanford, please, I don’t know if that is an appropriate thing to talk about around a thirteen year-old,” Fiddleford said. 

“She just took down two hydras on her own with a grappling hook. I think she’s mature enough.” 

“I disagree,” Fiddleford began, but was cut off by a hydra swiping at him. He grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be a flashlight, and hit the hydra over the head with it. In doing so, he accidentally hit the button to turn it on. The hydra hissed in pain and backed away from the beam of light. Fiddleford stared, dumbfounded.

“What are you doing, nerd? Take that thing out!” Stan shouted. “And toss me one, while you’re at it!” Fiddleford aimed the flashlight at the hydra, which stopped the process of replicating to cover its eyes. Mabel ducked around Ford, grabbed two flashlights, and tossed one at Stan. He caught it and turned it on. Abruptly, the monsters surrounding him hissed and backed away.

“Take that, sucka!” Mabel shouted, aiming her flashlight at the hydra still lurking near Ford. “That’s right, you better run! You don’t want to end up like those cursed wax statues!”

“I don’t know what that means, but thank you, sweetheart,” Ford said, watching the monster retreat. He took out his journal and a pen.

 

“It really is incredibly interesting, the way after one replicate gets knocked out, it just reabsorbs into the original,” Fiddleford said, picking the Tupperware up off the ground. Mabel crouched next to Ford, who was squatting awkwardly by the hydra. It was thoroughly unconscious now.

“Do you need me to clip off any more toenails?” she asked, poking at it with a stick.

“I think the proper word would be ‘claw’, dear, and no, what we’ve collected will suffice.”

“God, Sixer, do you have to correct her every five minutes?” Stan called from where he was sitting on the ground. He had propped himself against a tree and was trying to determine the extent of his injuries. He didn’t have any broken bones, he knew that. He was pretty sure he had a black eye or two, though.

“It’s important to prevent her from believing falsehoods.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

“So, Ford,” Mabel said, getting his attention again, “how would you describe these?” She opened the monster’s mouth, revealing the multiple rows of needle-thin teeth.

“Hmm, I would describe it by comparing it to something else. In this instance, I would compare it to the teeth of an anglerfish, but much longer. Then I would theorize as to what sort of prey these teeth would be best for catching.” He realized she was drawing something in the dirt with her stick. “That is an excellent drawing of the hydra, Mabel.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at him again. “Why do you think it got all upset around the flashlights?”

“I theorized before that the hydra was nocturnal or perhaps crepuscular. Its weakness to light suggests that I was correct as to their behavioral tendencies.”

“Um, okay?”

“If something is nocturnal, it’s awake at night, like an owl. If it’s crepuscular, it’s most active at dusk and dawn, like deer,” Fiddleford said, joining them. “What he’s saying is that it was hurt by the flashlights because it spends most or all of its time in darkness.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Thank you for translating him,” Stan said, standing up. “If you guys are done playing with an unconscious dragon, we should get going. I’m positive it’s past Mabel’s bedtime.”

“What makes you so sure?” Mabel asked, putting her hands on her hips. She gasped. “Can you tell what time it is by looking at the sky?”

“Sure I can.” He walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. He then looked up and pointed. “See, judging by the moon’s position, I can tell that it is nighttime.” Mabel blew a raspberry.

“What a rip-off.”

“And, because nighttime comes much later in the summer,” Stan continued, ignoring her, “I know that you should be in bed right now. No amount of pouting is going to change that, either.” He looked down at her with a smile. “How does an arm throne ride back home sound?” 

She grinned.

 

**June 25, 1983**

“Now, the first chord is in G major. Play me a G major chord, will ya?” Mabel strummed her banjo, which was slightly smaller than Fiddleford’s. “Excellent! You’ll have this song down in no time!” She beamed at the praise.

“Thanks, Fidds.” It was a nice day, so Fiddleford had insisted on having Mabel’s banjo lesson outside. They were sitting on the porch in a patch of sunlight. “What was the name of the song we’re learning today?”

“‘The Rainbow Connection’. It’s from The Muppet Movie. Have ya ever seen it?”

“No.” He gasped in mock horror.

“We need to rent it as soon as possible then. It’s only four years old, but it’s goin’ to be a classic, I’m sure of it.” 

“Whatever you say.” The door opened. 

“Mind if I join you two?”

“Of course not, Stanley,” Fiddleford said genially. Stan sat next to them. “Today we’re learning ‘The Rainbow Connection’. Have you ever seen The Muppet Movie?”

“I think it came out when I was living in my car, so, no.” He looked over at Mabel, testing out a few chords. “Sweetie, I’ve been thinking. A couple days ago, when we were fighting those dragons…”

“Yeah?” Stan looked at his hands intently.

“You were so brave, taking them on with a flashlight and a grappling hook. But, uh, I don’t want you to ever be in that sort of situation again.” She stared at him.

“Wait, are you telling me I won’t be able to go on any monster hunts ever again?”

“No, you’re free to go on monster hunts, as long as y’know, you have an adult with you. What I meant, was, I don’t want you to ever be staring down a giant lizard and have no experience in self-defense.”

“Are you going to make me take karate classes or something?”

“Nope. I’m going to teach you how to box.” Mabel put aside her banjo, starry-eyed. 

“Really?”

“Yep. I was pretty good back in the day, which is why I was able to hold my own against all those dragons. When I’m through with you, you’ll be able to take down twice that many reptiles and walk away with practically no bruises.” Mabel hugged him.

“That sounds like a lot of fun, Stan.” He smiled indulgently. 

“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart.” The door opened again.

“So this is where everyone went to.” Ford sat down next to Stan, holding something rectangular and wrapped very neatly. He handed it to Mabel. “This is for you.” She took the gift from him and tore it open. 

“Whoa,” she whispered, staring at the book she held in her hands. It had her favorite shooting star logo on it and was pink rather than red, but other than that, it was exactly like Ford’s field journal.

“I thought that if you were going to go on field research jaunts with us from here on out, you could use your own field journal. You’re such an amazing artist, I don’t think that your only drawings of monsters should be in the dirt.” 

“Thank you, Ford,” she said, smiling.

“It was no problem, dear.” He paused for a moment. “I think I might want to go looking for the hide-behind tomorrow. Maybe this time it will reveal itself. Stan, Mabel, would you care to join Fiddleford and myself on another monster hunt?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Stan said, shrugging. He looked at Mabel. “What do you think, half-pint?”

“It sounds awesome. But don’t be surprised if we find an owl playing a maraca instead of a weird shadow thing.” Her guardians chuckled.

“Are you ever going to make sense, kid?” Stan asked her.

“Nope!” she said cheerfully.

They sat outside for hours, making jokes about the monster they had fought two days ago, watching gnomes scurrying around the forest outskirts, and enjoying the weather. Eventually, though, Ford had to continue analyzing some data, Fiddleford had to get to work on dinner, and Stan had to fix the broken sink. Long after her three guardians had gone inside, Mabel stayed on the porch, singing softly.

“The lovers, the dreamers, and me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over, folks! I'm not planning on writing anything else for this particular version of the Timestuck AU, but I do have a fic for a different AU under development. I'm not sure when it will go up, but hopefully sometime before the end of the month. As always, if you have questions, feel free to leave a comment or contact me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.  
> Have a good one!


End file.
